Deflowering Zechs Merquis
by Kylara Kenshea
Summary: Zechs/Treize Warnings: Underage sex, M/M, Consensual and Nonconsensual Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Implications of Incestual Play, Very Dirty Language, Discipline, VERY OOC character behavior Location: Military Academy, Earth. Time: Mid-August, Lunch Time, AC


Deflowering Zechs Merquis

Deflowering Zechs Merquis

Zechs/Treize

Warnings: Underage sex, M/M, Consensual and Nonconsensual Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Implications of Incestual Play, Very Dirty Language, Discipline, VERY OOC character behavior

Location: Military Academy, Earth.

Time: Mid-August, Lunch Time, A.C. 190 (Shortly after Zech's 15th Birthday)

The mess hall was crowded, as always. First-year academy students were expected to stay on campus grounds for the most part, for security reasons. It was harder to control students who wandered around town during the lunch hour. In the interest of keeping local complaints to a minimum, freshmen were required to take an accompanying upperclassman if they wanted to leave the school grounds. So the long rows of metal benches were typically filled with crowds of hungry cadets, all looking to get ahead of their classmates by stuffing themselves with high-protein slop and picking fights at lunch.

Zechs didn't particularly care _where_ he ate. These days, the tasteless mush coming from the cafeteria was about the same as anything the average diner would serve up. He could sit in a corner and savor his mashed potatoes—straight from the flake—and ravioli—rubber and tomato paste, he was certain—without concerning himself with the petty posing of the other students. Unfortunately, they didn't always let him eat in peace. It was only the second week of training, and already he had experienced the loving attentions of the upperclassmen. They were especially fond of tormenting the new students, particularly the discipline committee. And you didn't have to work very hard to get in trouble.

The sharp clicking of boot heels on tile proved his reveries to be true. Although they were all required to wear uniforms at all times on campus, the discipline committee took great pleasure in being perfectly shined and polished. In fact, it was one of the things that they obsessively regulated in other students. Steely blue eyes stared straight ahead as he dipped his fork into his mashed potatoes, completely ignoring the ebony boots that stopped immediately next to his bench. He even went so far as to pretend to be enjoying the cardboard food, letting his eyes slide closed and quirking one corner of his mouth into a sardonic smile.

"Cadet." The words were firm, but not completely harsh. It was obvious to whom the voice was referring. Zechs slowly set his fork down, and turned his head to look at the most impressive undergraduate he'd ever seen. The man before him obviously valued his uniform above all else, because it was pristine. His boots were shined to the point of brilliance, his coat and pants were perfectly pressed, and his auburn hair was immaculately slicked back. He even wore white gloves, which most trainees left in their dorm rooms. Zechs suddenly felt slightly out of place: he had left his coat in his room, his platinum hair was tangled and loose from the morning drills, and his boots were dirty. Nothing to be done now, though. "Yes?" the blond responded, leaving formalities.

The upperclassman was not amused.

"You are in violation of seven codes of conduct, as of this moment, including three codes of dress conduct. I expect you to report to room four-seven-nine, in Hall C, immediately following lunch. You are to report for disciplinary action and retraining."

Without another word of explanation, the upperclassman and the two disciplinary committee members with him turned on their heels, marching toward the exit.

"Wait!" Zechs interrupted, moving quickly to grab the upperclassman's shoulder. "Who am I reporting to?"

The man half-turned, the corners of his mouth twitching into the simile of a smile. "I am Lieutenant Treize Khushrenada. Remember that name. You'll be screaming it later." Then he was gone, with all the pomp and circumstance of someone who has too much power on his hands.

_Khushrenada, huh? That's a lot of syllables to be screaming in the throes of passion. Nothing to be done, except to finish lunch._

It was slightly later than the appointed hour when Zechs reported to Hall C, Room 479. He took the time to shower, polish his boots, reassemble his uniform, and tie his hair back with a leather tie. All told, in fact, he was about an hour late. No sense running quickly to punishment.

When he arrived, Lt. Treize was standing with his back to the door behind a massive oak desk, staring out a large bay window at the cadets training out in the main field. They were doing rifle drills. In another hour, they would be pairing off for martial arts training—the best part of the exercises. Missing many more exercises would put Zechs at a disadvantage where his fighting was concerned. A fact the disciplinary committee was likely aware of.

Zechs saluted. The older man turned briefly to look at him, and then returned to his window. "You are late."

"I know, sir."

"Top in your class. Number one in strategy scores for the regional testing, especially in experimental weaponry. You excel in everything you do. So tell me, Mr. Merquis…" the older man turned, midnight blue eyes piercing in his intensity, "Tell me why you have trouble translating the instructions for uniform code? Don't they teach you how to wear clothes properly in your little corner of the world?"

The blond stiffened into a less relaxed attention. "Sir. I am always in uniform during training and maneuvers."

"We have a code of conduct to uphold, Zechs. The people look up to us. They expect us to be controlled, and in control. That includes our uniform, how we conduct ourselves, and how we portray ourselves. You are young," the blond scowled at this comment, before schooling his expression carefully "…But you will learn. That is why you are here. I am going to train you to be the perfect soldier."

"Sir! I am already in extensive studies. I will accept your reprimand, but I don't have any free time for extra study."

Treize turned around at this, smiled slowly—the kind of smile that struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. He pressed his palms flat against the heavy wood desk in front of the window and leaned forward toward Zechs. Intimidating.

"You have no choice, cadet. You _will_ submit to every form of training I have for you this afternoon. No questions asked. You will not defy my authority under any circumstances. Otherwise, you will be discharged immediately, dishonorably and without pay. You may be a good student, but your record is…questionable, at best. Am I perfectly clear?"

The blond sighed inwardly, wincing at the thought of the grueling training he was likely to endure. He refused to admit that the idea of a little discipline from Treize made his stomach tighten, not in fear. "Crystal, sir."

"Very good. Then you will follow me." The lieutenant left the desk, motioning briefly for Zechs to follow his brisk pace as he traversed five flights of stairs to the basement. The basement floor required a retina scan, and Zechs found himself surprised to see that Treize had access, despite being a lower ranking officer. The chrome doors leading to their destination slid open ominously in response to the dark haired man's presence.

Inside, the room was furnished by another heavy oak desk with a tall straight-backed chair behind it, a simple cot, and a cherry armoire. The walls were concrete, as was the floor. There were six rings in the wall, two on each wall without a door, arranged at about shoulder height. As Zechs took it all in, Treize strode over to the armoire. He threw open the double doors, motioning the blond closer. Two steps inside. _Clank._ Zechs whirled at the sound, pounding his fist against the now-sealed chrome door. No sign of a seam, no handle. No way out.

"Zechs. Come here." His tone was stern, but less angry than it had been upstairs. Without thinking, the younger man felt himself putting one foot in front of the other, until he was standing before Treize, stiff and uneasy. "Since you insist on living in disdain of our uniform, I have another uniform for you." In his hands, dangling from a hanger, the Lieutenant held a blue-and-green uniform, reminiscent of a Japanese schoolgirl's uniform from historical cartoons. Complete with long stockings, lacy panties and a short little skirt.

Something about the entire situation completely overwhelmed Zechs. He started laughing. Doubled over, choking on air, face reddening, tears in the corners of his eyes, laughing. He laughed hard and long, until the force of Treize's hand tangled in his platinum locks jerked his head up to interrupt. Despite the fact that he was slightly taller than Treize, he found himself struggling to extract his hair from the Lieutenant's grasp.

Mentally, he sobered up. This position in the military was his last chance for redemption. He had exhausted every other resource. His chance to save the world, save himself. He _needed_ this. If he was discharged now, he'd be branded as an outcast, and the only thing left to him then would be the colonies. He could not afford to lose this game. Steel blue met midnight, in a powerful clash that sent a shiver down Zech's spine—part fear, part excitement. He was inexperienced, and the older man had seen warfare of every kind. And here he was, expected to submit to his commanding officer. The thought sent another tiny thrill down his spine. Another shake from Treize's hold on the back of his head rattled his brains out of daydreaming. He shrugged himself away.

"Sir. I'll put it on. On two conditions."

"I won't promise anything… but I will listen to your conditions."

Zechs coughed softly, pretending to clear his throat. Gruffly, "One, no pictures or videotape. I have a reputation to maintain."

Treize chuckled, the first genuine sign of humor the younger man had heard from him. "And the other?"

The boy blushed, the soft pink spreading across his cheeks and warming his ears.

"…turn around while I change."

The soldier laughed outright at that, but he turned around to placate the cadet's plea. In truth, Zechs had a hard time watching _himself_ change, the very idea was so humiliating. He distanced himself, as though he were watching from outside while some other long-haired blond unbuttoned his coat meticulously, laying it on the cot. The coat was followed by the now-pressed white dress shirt, then each individual boot. Painstakingly, each sock slowly joined the pile. His slacks followed. Finally, his boxers. Taking off this last piece of cloth that was _his_, he was handing himself over into the enemy's hands, begging to be owned. It grated on him. He determined not to give himself over completely, no matter the cost. Humiliated, may be. But never broken.

The uniform was the right size. It was becoming more apparent that this whole setup had been carefully planned. Embarrassingly, the lacy panties just barely covered his member, and they were soft and smooth in a way that teased him just so. That blasted skirt wasn't quite long enough to hide that he was becoming slightly aroused, either.

"Red brings out the color of your eyes, you know. Like roses. You should blush for me more often."

"I…beg pardon, sir?" The best the spluttering boy could do is feign ignorance, because Treize was on him the moment he had the last stocking pulled on. He was all business and barking orders, and even just a few weeks of training had Zechs jumping to obey before he could stop himself.

"In the center of the room. Now! I expect you to do fifty one-armed pushups with each arm. You have two minutes. Go!" He clicked a button on his stop watch, and then stepped back while a panicked cadet dropped to the ground to grind out his pushups. Zechs could feel his face reddening even more, and he imagined that the view of his skirt—his skirt? No, _the_ skirt—bobbing with the exertion was exciting for the bastard who stared at him hungrily while he worked. He counted off to distract himself while the timer beeped merrily away. "Forty-five, forty-six…" He jumped up and reversed positions to do the other arm, but the time he had taken to obey orders cost him a few seconds, and the timer beeped before he had reached his second set of fifty.

"…time. You should have been able to execute my commands flawlessly, boy. You have failed. Do you know what that means?"

Zechs scrambled to attention, struggling to look professional and competent in little girls' clothing. "Sir! I am to be disciplined, sir?"

Three steps across the room, and that perfectly pristine white glove was contacting his face, hard enough to give him whiplash.

"Speak only when spoken to. The measure of a man is his ability to be strong in the face of adversity. But you are not a man. You are a boy. My boy."

"Sir. Your boy."

_SLAP._ This time, the other cheek stung.

"I said, speak only when spoken to. Perfect soldiers always follow their orders exactly. Are we clear?"

"SIR YES SIR!"

"Good. Now. Go and put your palms on the cot and brace yourself. I am going to punish you for missing your assignment."

Without a word, Zechs obeyed, head hanging in shame. He kept his eyes averted, the sting of rebuke still on his cheeks. He pressed his weight down into the cot's flimsy structure, leaning on his palms and focusing his attention on anything but the armoire. Treize fished around in the armoire again, returning with cuffs and a riding crop.

"I will use the cuffs if you do not obey me. Put your ass in the air."

Zechs jumped, startled, at Treize's hand kneading his ass. The older man caressed each cheek, stroking and squeezing until the heat rising in him made the lacy panties feel _very _tight around his member. The blond was just starting to relax, when the crop came down hard across his ass. _WHACK_. _WHACK. WHACK._ Each stroke stung more. Three strokes, and then the hand was caressing him again, warm and inviting, comforting. As soon as his muscles relaxed from the tension, _THWACK, THWACK, THWACK._ He could feel the welts rising from his skin. Twice more the Lieutenant repeated this torture, until Zechs felt like he could barely hold his own weight up anymore.

Just as he was about to collapse, everything stopped, both the caresses and the beatings. He lifted his head, trying to anticipate his tormentor's next move. In the next moment his face was shoved into the cot, the panties were shoved aside, suffocating his cock, and something cold and _wet_ was invading his asshole.

"My boy. You'll do exactly what Daddy tells you, won't you? Because Daddy knows what's best for you… so open up for me. I want to fuck your tight little ass tonight… and you're going to enjoy it, aren't you, my little boy?" His voice was deep, velvety smooth. Zechs moaned out loud, overcome by the role he was being forced into, and the responsive throbbing of his cock.

_SLAP._ Treize's hand came down heavy on his already-sore ass. "Speak when spoken to, boy. I asked you a question. Do you like wearing girls' clothes, my sweet little slut?" He moaned again, his brain melting into a need for touch, for Treize's hands on his body, his balls, his cock. Suddenly the lacy panties were far too restraining. He felt as though he were bursting from the seams. "Yes, I love dressing up for you…" A second finger joined the first, stretching his ass in rhythmic circles, sometimes shallow, sometimes thrusting deeply and pressing at a spot deep inside him that made him desperately thrash his hips in search of pressure, friction, anything to ease the urgency building up inside him.

_SLAP! _"You may not come until I give you permission, do you understand me boy? Hold it back. If you come, I will punish you so badly that you will beg me for death. _Do you understand?"_ His voice was harsh, cold. Another shiver ran down Zech's spine as he acknowledged his orders with a slow, pained nod. His hardness was painful now, and he could feel heat rising from himself, building up in his balls, threatening to wash over him in a white haze. He wanted desperately to touch himself, to stroke his dick and release some of the tension building up inside him. But all of his weight was supported on his hands, and he had been ordered not to orgasm.

A third finger joined the two, twisting and reaching until Zechs was panting with the effort of containing himself, warm wetness stretching him forever, until he felt as though the Lieutenant was going to force his entire hand inside of him. Then the older man touched that spot again, and the cadet was lightheaded, thrusting his hips against the edge of the bed, rocking himself to get any friction against his aching cock, and Treize's fingers were gone from him, leaving behind a cold void. The soldier's hands grabbed his hips, roughly. Searing pain ripped through his body, Treize's huge member embedded in his ass to the hilt, and tears were rolling down Zech's cheeks, but he thrust himself back against the older man, clenching his ass around him, whispering, chanting his name. "God, daddy, fuck me…Treize…fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…harder, please, I've been bad, please fuck me…" The Lieutenant grunted, punctuating each thrust with a soft moan that spurred Zechs on to thrust faster, meeting each of the older man's thrusts, squeezing down on him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the blond was screaming at himself, and wondering where he'd come up with the things he was saying. And then everything was dark and he solely focused on milking every drop from Treize's cock.

Treize came hard, digging his fingers into Zech's hips, pounding so deeply inside that Zechs felt he would split apart. His cum filled the boy, spilling out and down his legs, hot and sticky and _wet_ and _hot._ And then he was pulling out and strolling over to the big high-backed chair. Zechs was still hard, and his hardness was trapped under his body in an excruciatingly painful way as he lay panting on the cot.

"Boy! Come here and clean me up!"

The dark haired man sat upright in all his glory, still in his shiny black boots, but with those military slacks pooled at his ankles, his dick still half-hard from the exertion of fucking Zechs, cum dripping from the tip. That smug look on his face, of command and power. It stole the blond's breath away, and all he could do is stumble to obey. He crossed the room in a half-dozen steps, ripping off the lacy panties to free himself as he did so. He dropped to his knees in front of the chair, eager to taste the fruits of his labor.

"Go slowly. I want you to lick every last drop off of my cock, like ice cream. Start with my balls. Lick them soft and slow. Flatten your tongue, really _taste_ it. Good boy…" He spoke huskily, using a rough hand on the back of Zech's head to guide him toward his goal. The blond took to his task eagerly, thinking that _surely_ he would be allowed to come, if he sucked his daddy off… Stroking the older man's dick near the tip to steady himself, he traced Treize's balls with his tongue, licking in slow, lazy circles, suckling at each ball in turn, reveling in the gasps and moans coming from above him. His tongue traveled slowly, licking every drop of cum. Soft lips encircled his head, sucking gently at first, flicking his tongue across the tip to catch every leaking drip.

Treize moaned louder, thrusting his hips upward into Zech's mouth. "Boy, suck it hard….swallow it all. I want you to drink every drop…" The blond boy needed no further prodding. He gripped Treize's hips firmly, his head bobbing up and down with the motion as he swallowed as much as he could of the older man's cock. Sucking, swallowing, stroking with his tongue as he sucked, his hands cupping Treize's balls, rolling, teasing, fondling, caressing, squeezing. The soldier's hips bucked hard, and hot cum was pouring down Zech's throat, salty and thick. Greedily he sucked, licking every drop off of Treize's slowly softening cock.

Zechs rocked back on his heels, his forgotten member throbbing so hard now that he felt as though he would never recover. Every inch of his body was at attention—he felt sure that the slightest touch would shatter him. Treize stood up, righting himself and pulling his pants back up. As he zipped them, he smiled fondly at the blond. "You did well, boy. Do you want your reward?"

Without waiting for a response, he shoved the cadet roughly down onto the floor, wrapping his hand around his cock, jerking hard and fast, excruciatingly hard. Zechs panted, his body tense, his back arching into Treize's touch. "Please…god, I can't hold it in…please…" The soldier smiled cruelly, his fist wrapped around the boy's dick pumping fiercely. Just when the blond felt he would lose all control, the dark haired man leaned down to whisper harshly in his ear, "You may come…come, now, boy!"

"Ggggggodddd…..TREIIIIIIIZZZZZEEEE…..!" And then he was bucking and coming and there was that white haze he'd been fighting this whole time.

When he woke up, he was in his own bed, with no evidence that the afternoon had been real, except for the welts on his ass. Treize watched from a distance, looking through the window from his vantage point across the field in Hall C.

"Sleep well, my Soldier."


End file.
